A 'baker's dozen' makes every day Father's Day at the Foleys

It is filled with an 8-week-old baby, toddlers, little ones, a big one who is 20, two dogs and a parrot. It is a place of laughter and joy and happy endings for children who once were throwaways, unwanted and unloved.

Everything changes when they reach the doorstep of Herb and Evelyn's house in Oviedo. Even their names. All the names start with "K," marking a new beginning.

There is also a pool and bicycles and a playground with a huge black pipe that's a slide. But the most important thing is a safety net of trust and quiet calm.

Herb and Evelyn take them in their arms and tell them everything will be OK. There will be no more abuse, no misery, no more days of hoarding food or looking out from bedrooms with windowless frames and walking on floors stacked with piles of garbage.

"Life isn't about the world they've been growing up in," Evelyn says. "It is a happy place."

A happy place where they can stay.

When adoption papers are finalized shortly for a sibling group of three, the Foleys will have 11 children adopted out of foster care. There's also a biological son and daughter. They still honor Kimberly — who died of a heart attack last summer — as part of the family.

"A Baker's Dozen," Evelyn says.

Father's Day has a personal meaning for everyone. We all celebrate differently, cherishing those gaudy ties and Hallmark cards and keepsakes of eternal love.

But it will be an ordinary day for Herb Foley. For him, every day is Father's Day. He celebrates when he comes home from work as a construction-equipment operator and screams "Hello, family!" and the kids come bouncing down from the stairs so everybody can hug it out. "It's the best feeling in the world," he says.

Herb will also feel the spiritual embrace from hundreds of other children whom he has loved like his own. In 25 years, the Foleys have fostered more than 300 kids in New Jersey and Florida.

Some have stayed a day. Others a week or a month. Others never left.

After they adopt Kollin, Kassidy and Kaliegh within a few weeks, they'll get out of foster care, settling in as a blended family of whites, blacks and Hispanics. A smorgasbord of love.

Now in their 50s, Herb and Evelyn began this journey in New Jersey. Evelyn's mother was a foster mom, too, raising two boys whom Evelyn still calls her brothers.

After Evelyn married Herb and gave birth to Kimberly, who was legally blind, a nurse who worked in an early intervention program suggested that "we could really use a family like yours" in foster care.

Done.

The journey continued in 2002, when the Foleys moved to Central Florida. They pushed through when Kimberly, at 27, died unexpectedly. It crushed Herb, to the point of forcing the family to switch roles. For eight months, Evelyn went to work and Herb became a stay-at-home dad.

Foster-care officials called to ask if they wanted to have a brother and sister removed to help cope with the stress. The Foleys refused. "We felt they were part of the family," Evelyn said.

Those two, plus a baby sister born just two months ago, will be the ones the Foleys will be adopting shortly.

Sadly, there are a lot of things out of whack with Florida's foster-care system: Too many mommies and daddies who are unfit parents, and caseworkers trying to manage the chaos by checking off boxes instead of asking themselves the most important question:

"What is in the best interests of the child?"

Herb and Evelyn Foley always have that answer. It is not always the easiest road to travel. Of course there are struggles and financial challenges, despite the $400-plus monthly stipend they receive for each foster and adoptive child. But the Foleys have mastered the art of improvisation, which includes two refrigerators and three freezers, only buying groceries on sale, and calling dinner and a trip to Home Depot a typical "date night."

But their sacrifices come with no complaints. Instead there is nothing but love. Big love.

Happy Father's Day, Herb. You and your bride deserve a bouncy house full of hugs.